Today we took Boy for his MRI scan. The instructions were to deliver him to the Treatment Centre 15 mins before his appointment to fill in a questionnaire, fed, sleepy and ready to be swaddled.
We arrived. Boy was fast asleep. Since the idea of feeding him was to ensure he slept I dithered between waking him up to feed him or leaving him asleep. Chose the latter and of course he woke up just before he was due to be seen.
The letter hadn't explicitly said only one parent and one child would be allowed into the scanner suite so Bloke sat outside whilst I went through with Boy. Ditched my coat and watch in the reception area (I was allowed to keep my glasses on, fortunately) and then went into the scanner room. The scanner was huge, like a 1.5m polo mint although the middle hole was only 60cm. Not large enough for your average prop forward.
Clearly MRI staff are rather better at swaddling babies than I am. I scoffed when I learned that a wriggly child of mine would have to be tightly wrapped - arms as well but he was happily swaddled, given a set of headphones that were bigger than his head and he slid into the scanner.
He was remarkably good. A couple of the images had to be retaken because he wriggled but he lay still for most of the 25 minute session despite the noise and the bleeping of the machine. Even before we were out one of the staff had been out to update Bloke which I thought was impressive.
We should get the results at Boy's outpatients' appointment in January.
Whilst we were in, we dropped in some nice biccies to the midwives on the post-natal ward who looked after us so well. Disappointingly none of my favourite midwives were there; infact I didn't know any of the team who were on today. And I thought that I'd been in long enough that most combinations of staf had been around whilst I was there.
Right. Time to get The Girl from nursery.
